Punch Drunk
by Sam-Tony
Summary: Morgan spiked the punch at the BAU office Christmas party. slash GR, HM


Punch Drunk

_/While it is true that crime does not take a holiday, it is also true that even the fiercest of those who battle it must./ - Jason Gideon, three hours and fourteen minutes ago at the beginning of the annual BAU office Christmas party…_

_--_

Wearing his new santa hat slightly askew - a gag gift from Morgan along with a more sincere volume of English short stories, not one unsub in them to be found, from Hotch - Special Agent Doctor Spencer Reid slipped inside the semi-darkened room gratefully, ever mindful of where he needed to put his feet to avoid tripping himself up as well as of the headache slowly developing behind his eyelids, threatening to steal his pleasant fruit punch buzz.

Leave it up to Morgan to have thought that spiking the punch bowl was a good idea...

He hoped JJ liked the Soloman Island Birdwing butterfly shadowbox he had found for her. He had drawn her name in the secret santa lots this year and – while he hadn't wanted to bring up old Fisher King memories – the second he came across it, Spencer had known it would be perfect for her collection.

Making it to the overstuffed red leather chair - the only spot of color in the otherwise ordinary office - Spencer sat both himself and his half full cup of equally red punch gingerly down on their respective surfaces. He was rather amused at the thought of possibly mixing it all up and placing himself on the table and the cup in the chair, but he wasn't quite that far gone just yet. Maybe after he finished the cup...

He had just lain his head back against the comfortable leather when the door opened, bringing a familiar black silhouette against the brilliant light outside in with it. Spencer shut his eyes against the invading glare.

"I thought I saw you sneak in here," Gideon said, the curiosity in the pleasant tone turning to concern when Spencer never lifted his head. "You alright?"

"I think Morgan spiked the punch," Spencer told him, reaching out to shake his now empty cup (and when had he finished it?), the small chips of ice all that were left of the two large cubes he had started out with rattling around in the plastic.

He could all but imagine Gideon taking that information in; weighing it along with the fact that the younger man had all but snuck his way into his darkened office and had yet to open his eyes and look at him. 

"And you thought it would be better to face a possible drunk in here than out there where Morgan might make fun of you?"

"Would make fun of me," Spencer corrected though without heat. He was much too mellow and - let's face it - heading into sleepy, to worry about his fellow agent's teasing. Morgan may make him uncomfortable sometimes but he was never mean. Besides, he wasn't drunk, he was...pleasantly mellow. "And I thought a nap would be good."

This time he when he heard Gideon chuckle it sounded closer. Cautiously cracking open a eye, Spencer saw one blue denimed thigh resting on the table where his drink had been. The wonderfully dark voice still held that hint of amusement. "So you're a sleepy drunk, then?"

In his current mood Spencer only tipped his head up at the older man, smiling happily. The wide yawn only added credence to the accusation. "Yep."

"I see. In that case, maybe we should get you home," Gideon suggested. "Let you sleep off your buzz in a nice comfortable bed. Before you get a crick in your neck."

"'m comf'table right here," he denied, snuggling into the warmth of the padded chair, forgetting for the moment the party, complete with lighted and garlanded Christmas tree, still going on outside in the main pit. He thought he heard the door open again, but now that he was stationary the alcohol was quickly catching up with him and he didn't feel up to opening his eyes to be sure. In no way was he taking the metro home.

He did hear another chuckle, though, and maybe an echo as he drifted further down to sleep. "Alright then," the voice whispered, fading as he began falling into darkness. "Sleep, Spencer."

And with one last rub of his cheek against leather he did just that.  
--

The two men gazed down at their colleague curled up in old easy chair fondly. Sharing a smile at the slight snores and the drool already forming, they moved far enough away from that corner of Gideon's office as to not disturb the slumbering man.

"You going to take him home?" Hotch asked.

"Eventually," Gideon admitted, shaking his head. "After everyone leaves. He seems to be comfortable enough at the moment – though I can't imagine how - and there's no sense in wagging the rumor mills. Though I am going to have a talk with Morgan about spiking the community punch."

"He sleeps on the plane the same way." Hotch grinned outright at that, the dimples on his cheeks showing up and lending the teasing tone a mischievous quality rarely seen in the serious agent. "All knees and elbows. Going to thank him are you?"

Gideon looked from an adorably innocent Spencer Reid and smiled. "Yes."

Hotch laughed softly at that. Slapping the older man on the shoulder, he offered suggestively, "So take Spencer home, put him to bed and maybe he'll be the present under your tree this year. He already has the hat."

Gideon only smiled, deferring with a murmured, "Maybe I will."

No doubt knowing him better than that, the younger man only snorted. "Sure you will." Getting ready to slip out of Gideon's office, Hotch offered one last piece of advice, "Ever stop and wonder why it was _your_ office Reid came to and not mine? Or JJ's? Think about it."

Reluctantly, Gideon did. However, he only waved the other man out, saying lightly, "You and Morgan go have fun. Go home."

"Merry Christmas, Jason," Aaron smiled warmly.

"Merry Christmas, Hotch."

The door once more firmly closed on the lights and merriment coming from the office party outside the semi-darkened haven that was his office, Gideon looked at the young man who had captured his mind as well as his heart. Curled up in the old red chair with his cheek pressed against the crevice in the back, Spencer looked young. Too young.

But Gideon knew better. And contrary to what Hotch thought, he hadn't been blind to the multitude and varied glances Spencer had cast his way while working through his changing feelings. Figuring himself out. Gideon had noticed every changing nuance that had been Spencer Reid from the time he came to work at the BAU a few years earlier up to the moment he had slipped away from the party and crashed in Gideon's office tonight.

A fond look down and Gideon was running his hand over Spencer's hair, the fingers carding through the silky strands. As Reid sighed in his sleep, leaning into the caress, Gideon admitted he wasn't strong enough to deny himself this chance. He was going to take the advice given him and take Spencer home, tuck the young man into Gideon's own bed and see where the morning would take them.

With any luck Santa would be kind and they would both get what they wanted for Christmas this year.


End file.
